


Autumn Spell

by RoseEclipse



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Ilvermorny, Ilvermorny House - Horned Serpent, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 22:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20749835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseEclipse/pseuds/RoseEclipse
Summary: An Ilvermorny one-shot inspired by a tedious weather forecast. It’s not easy being a witch in a seemingly endless summer heatwave but having friends can make the heat and time fly by.





	Autumn Spell

_Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,  
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun_

-John Keats

September had entered glowing golden and crisp at Hogwarts that year. But thousands of miles away and beyond the endless depths of the ocean, their Ilvermorny peers were experiencing a thick hazy heat.

Jane Riley was gray-eyed and brown-haired as a squirrel. She was also ready for summer to end. 

She had grown to anticipate those cool autumn evenings when the pumpkins swelled up into orange balloons in the garden patch and purple twilights stole over the pine-scented treetops. But this unwelcomed extended stay of summer weather had driven away those prospects. Her wool cloak was the first thing she had discarded after leaving the classroom. Crossing the courtyard, she noticed her fellow students also struggling with the buttons of their uniforms, fanning shirts and loosening ties to allow for some relief.

The sound of withered grass crunching beneath her feet was enough to make one cry. Even if she could muster up a bit of water from her wand, it wouldn’t be enough to refresh all the grounds and restore them to emerald-green. Everyone just had to grin and bear it as well as they could for now.

Even the dauntless Ilvermorny teachers had their classes disturbed by the heat. Brows were moped with handkerchiefs and one or two people opened a window during class to let in some air. The breeze that swept in and ruffled their parchment papers was warm as a mitten, but at least it was better than stale air in a stale classroom. Jane had to pinch herself not to nod off during History of Magic, a subject that often intrigued her hearing how wizards tipped off No-Majs’ to help them catch down evil-doers. 

But now…now the class seemed to be one dull drone after another. Now it felt like one honey-slow day dragged into the next without any change in the forecast while the sun’s rays bore down upon them like an invisible cloak of exhaustion.

Professor Sabrewing must have noticed her students’ wilted expressions because she finally shut her book and informed the class that they could leave early today. The half-hearted cheers confirmed her suspicions that the intense climate had gotten to the students if they lacked their usual rambunctious energy. Nevertheless, they threw her grateful looks as they gathered up their things and trickled out of the classroom.

While Professor Sabrewing fanned herself with a large piece of parchment, Jane headed outside towards her favorite reading tree. She hastily shed her cloak and spread it out on the parched grass to protect herself from the spiky ends of the blades. At least there was _some_ shade left beneath the branches and the leaves hadn’t all withered and died off the trees just yet. They were still a staunch bright-green with only a glimpse of red or yellow among them, as though a giant had dipped his thumb into a bucket of paint and smudged a bit of color here or there. Jane ached for the days when the trees would burst into flames of gold and scarlet, giving her a glowing yellow canopy to sit under. Now the warm wind rustled through the leaves and made a _shh-sshing_ sound.

Jane tore the purple ribbon out of her hair and ran her fingers through it in an attempt to smooth out the frizz. She managed to whisk her hair into a braid and bind it up with the ribbon again. She could still feel beads of perspiration popping out from the back of her neck and thought about cutting it short like Yvette had done. But Yvette changed her hairstyle so often and so radically that Jane wondered if she’d also wind up dying it electric-blue (as Yvette did last week) and mindfully chose to do nothing at the present. Still, a cropped head was a tempting thought as she wiped her forehead with one wrist.

She tried to continue reading _Tales of Beedle the Bard_ but the enchanting stories were slowly driving her mad with tales of frosty winter days and wizards bundled up in fur-lined cloaks. Jane’s temper finally gave way and she snapped the book shut, thrusting it aside where it lay calmly on the grass. It seemed to defy her because it was the only thing not melting out here.

Jane stuck out her tongue at the book. Then she ripped up a handful of withered grass and threw it at the book. The blades feebly fluttered back to the ground. She shook her head in defeat.

“_Essence of winter sleep is on the night,__”_ she quoted aloud. Nothing like a little Robert Frost to set the mood. “_Frost, of course_,” her thoughts provoked back.

From across the field came the chanting of eager boys on broomsticks. Formal Quiddich practices had been canceled so they had opted to play a more haphazard game; if one was ever possible in the wizarding world.

“_One two three four, Quodpot’s gonna wipe the floor,”_ they chanted. “_Five, six, seven, eight. Try to keep your broomsticks straight!”_

Despite the heat, their merry game went on for a good quarter of an hour. It was a pleasant distraction for Jane as she watched them zip around the fields like a pack of dragonflies, dunking leather balls into baskets. But as the sun rise higher and higher into the sky, bearing its almighty power down upon them all, the boys finally relented that it was too much. They landed back on the parched ground, plunked their broomsticks over their shoulders, and headed into the trees to take refugee beneath the shade.

A boy built like a bear lumbered over to Jane. The back of his shirt was stuck to his skin with sweat and his cheeks were flushed coral-red.

“Man, it’s hotter than a witch’s oven out there!” exclaimed Asher. He rubbed his sleeve over his face and then noticing Jane added hastily, “No offense.”

“None taken,” she assured him.

Asher eyed the empty space on her cloak. She gestured for him to take it.

“You sure? I don’t wanna soak every inch with my sweat.”

Jane found herself smiling in spite of her weary mood. “I’m also hot. Misery loves company.”

“Thanks.” Asher plunked down next to her and exhaled deeply from his nostrils. The sound was like a snorting bull but Jane didn’t say so aloud. She studied her friend’s thick dark hair that stuck up like a bush from his scalp and the caterpillar-heavy black eyebrows that were knotted together fretfully beneath a scrunched brow. Combined with large black sharp eyes, Asher gave off the aura of one who is continuously discontented with the world.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. True, the Wampus was more of a skeptic than an optimist and cautious of all outsiders. But beneath that prickly exterior was an all-around decent guy and Jane felt safe, even relieved in the presence of her new friend. Their kinship was formed some weeks ago after a few wizards caught Jane practicing her ballroom dance moves in unused classroom. The invasion on her privacy wasn’t the problem; it was their rude suggestions about other “types” of dancing she could do for them.

Asher had heard the snide remark loud and clear. At once he seized the biggest of them by the front of his shirt and snarled, “You watch your mouth or I’ll beat you into tar!” They all ran off like dogs with tails tucked between their legs. Since then, no one dared to provoke Jane Riley and she gaily continued her practice, fluttering and twirling around the classroom like a leaf upon the wind. Nor did anyone attempt to pick a fight with Asher, who was built like a brick and the beater of the Wampus Quiddich team.

Now he looked more like a bear than ever; one who couldn’t shed his heavy coat.

“Got anything to drink?” he asked her.

Jane rummaged in her bag until she found the flask. “It’s bubble brew,” she informed him. “But most of the fizz went out.”

“Better that than nothing,” he conceded. Asher popped off the cork and squirted some of the sweet purple soda into his mouth. “Ahhh…” he gasped aloud.

The crunching sound of shoes upon grass grew louder and Yvette Cole, blonde-haired and somehow still energetic, had suddenly appeared as if Apparated before them. “Got room for some iced tea too?” she offered, holding up two bottles. “This one is mint-flavored and the other has lemon. Or is the right one mint? I can’t remember.”

“It’s all good,” Jane assured her. She scooted over so that Yvette could join them into a relieved, if not merry, trio. In the end they sampled the bottles and came to the conclusion that the mint one was in the right hand but the lemons had in fact been oranges. Yvette threw up her hands and was frustrated to the core until the two of them assured her that there were far worse things in life than orange-flavored iced tea.

“Let it go, Cole,” concluded Asher. “It’s too hot to pick a fight with yourself.”

“Hmmm.” Yvette’s eyes slid to Jane’s book that had been discarded in the sun. “If it’s too hot for Jane Riley to read then this _must_ be a bad omen.”

Jane flopped down upon her back and felt the baked dry earth beneath her cloak supporting her limbs. “It’s so hot I don’t even think a rain dance will help.”

Yvette was intrigued. “Do you _know_ any rain dances?” she asked curiously. 

“No,” insisted Jane. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t do one here. I’m no shaman.”

Yvette realized she was getting nowhere with her friend and ended the conversation by running a hand over her own head. Her sleek golden curls had been cropped short and she had tied a green silk scarf around her head, just above her ears. It was a flattering look and made Yvette appear cool and fashionable as ever. “_Much better than that bright-blue bob,” _Jane thought.

Yvette was now busying herself by unfolding a copy of _The New York Ghost_. “If Jane won’t read the forecast, why don’t you?” she asked Asher.

He shrugged but took the newspaper from her and began to read aloud. “_The constellations Aquila and Aquarius will intersect in four weeks from now. Lyra has risen and so tides will be coming and going on schedule by the sea,” _Asher droned on. He looked up just as the girls yawned, then continued.

_“The moon is in Leo this year so moon and Venus will continue to withhold rain_,” He frowned, squinted, and then flipped the paper sideways. “Or is the moon in Pisces?

“Give it back,” said Yvette, snatching the paper away and flipping over several pages. “Woah. This is bad news indeed,” she moaned.

Jane sat back up. “What? What is it?”

“Carmen Krum’s been accused of cheating on her husband.”

“Oh honestly,” huffed Jane.

“I’m serious!” exclaimed Yvette. _“Scandal threatens to rock the celebrity duo_,” she began aloud.

“_The internationally-renowned fashion designer Carmen Krum, wife of infamous Quidditch player Viktor Krum, has been suspected to be in cahoots with her swimming instructor. An inside source suggests that Carmen will be gathering her collection of South American emeralds and running off with the dashing young man._

_‘I dismiss all such rumors’, Carmen insisted to the press. ‘I am devoted to my husband and refuse to accept any of these scandalous accusations.’_

_When question on the status of his wife’s fidelity, Krum declined to comment. He merely concluded by stating he would invoke the Ten-Tongue Curse on anyone who invades the privacy of his family.”_

“Juicy, but not helpful,” Jane concluded.

“Okay, smartypants. Then you figure it out!” Yvette thrust the paper at her.

Intrigued, Jane pursed up her lips as her eyes scanned the star charts. Yvette and Asher finished up the iced tea while Jane drew a line on her parchment with a green-inked quill and matched a few stars. She let thoughts follow the trail of calculations as though punching in numbers for an equation. After several minutes, Jane laid down her quill.

“All right. If this is anything like our Astronomy class, it appears that Mars is going to enter Taurus starting this afternoon,” she estimated. “And the Sun, ruled by Rudra, Lord of the Thunderstorms, will—“

“English, please, Miss Horned Serpent.”

Jane huffed. “I’m in the house of scholars, not seers. I can’t predict _anything_ unless I have proper evidence.”

Yvette bobbed her head. “My apologies. Please proceed, Miss Riley," she declared formally.

“Thank you, Miss Cole. As I was saying, Rudra will be descending two days from now. So by Thursday we should be getting thunderstorms.”

Jane rolled up_ The New York Ghost_ and handed it back to Yvette. “The key is '_should_' be getting," she reminded her friends. "Remember what Professor Sabrewing said about predictions and omens: weather patterns can and do alter at the last minute."

“Yeah, remember last winter?” asked Asher. “_The New York Ghost_ predicted we’d get a few flurries. We got three feet of snow in January.” He chuckled at the memory.

But California born-and-bred Yvette shuddered and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “I remember,” she muttered grimly. “We were snowbound and stuck in the school for a month. I'm lucky I didn't turn into an icicle." 

Jane glanced back up at the defiant hot blue sky but had to shield her eyes with one hand. The sun was too bright and unbearable.

“It has to change,” she said softly but firmly. “It _has_ to.”

A-A-A

Ilveromorny gossip was fast as lightning and hasty as a bubbling brook. Everyone was wagging their tongues about the prediction that the heat would finally break on Thursday—and that a Horned Serpent had said so. Well, if the scholar said so, then it _must_ be true!

She implored them not to get carried away. But someone started taking bets and then the next thing she knew, Jane’s fellow Horned Serpents were warning her that she had better be right or else they were going to lose a nice pile of fat galleons as well as their reputations.

“Even if it doesn’t rain, we’ll still be friends,” Yvette assured her glum friend. She patted Jane assuredly on the shoulder. Jane threw her a look of relief. Thunderbirds don’t let petty wagers get in the way of comradeship.

Thursday morning arrived and Jane went to the window, pulling back to the curtains to examine the weather. A faint pink aura glowed in the sky but as far as she could see, it would be another hot empty blue sky. Sticking her hand out of the window and feeling the humid air confirmed everything.

She groaned aloud.

Breakfast was frustrating, what with people bemoaning you couldn’t eat hot pancakes or cinnamon oatmeal on a morning as stuffy as this one. A teacher overhead them and commented you most certainly could and there was no point in fussing over it when you could have cold cereal and fruit as well. Kids responded by sipping their lukewarm cranberry juice and fretting as steam began to build up everywhere.

“Hey, Riley! Way to go with the weather forecast!” someone shouted over their shoulder. "What's next? Sleet and death shadows?"

“Why dontcha just give up school and go back to Ohio?” another jeered.

“Or maybe you can teach divination like that Hogwarts professor. I heard she’s nutty as a squirrel.”

"Yeah. Maybe starring at a crystal ball for a few hours will improve your intelligence." 

"Are you sure you're a witch Riley? You might as well admit it," suggested one witch in a passive-aggressive tone. "Remember, there's no shame in being a Squib..."

Jane compressed her lips tightly and tried to stare hard at the wall so that she wouldn't cry. But out of the corner of her eye she noticed Asher's wand slip deftly in and out of his fingers. There was a distinct _splat_ as the last insulter's face went head-down into a plate of maple syrup. By the time she had gotten her face unstuck Asher had already snatched up his books and dashed out of the room. His shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter that lifted Jane's spirits adequately. 

That afternoon, Jane headed back outside and was ready to run to her favorite tree. But halfway there she stopped to a halt and starred upwards. She felt a flicker of relief cross her face and by the time Yvette joined her, they both knew why.

A single cloud was inching slowly into the center of the sky. Instead of it being a fluffy white one that meant more humidity and sunshine ahead, this one was swollen and gray-colored. Never before had such an ominous-looking cloud caused two witches to be so happy. They starred at each other and exchanged silent expressions of approval because they knew what this meant.

_Rain_.

By afternoon the cloud had grown even bigger and two more had joined it. A fresh wind, strange yet wonderful, stirred in the trees and tore several leaves off. The air felt lighter as it blew through the students’ hair and fanned their flushed faces. Soon the sky was a restless rolling gray, a color that a wizard had once said matched Jane’s eyes.

Who was she to protest such a compliment? Especially now that she could feel those little pinpricks on her skin as her hairs stood on end and her nose tingled with anticipation at the change, finally breaking up the weary monotonous heat, with something new and exciting.

There were far worse things than saying you had eyes like a sky before a storm. Or watching the slate-colored clouds descended over Ilvermorny and the slopping pines around it. A rumble of thunder echoed over Massachusetts like the sound of a giant grinding his axe.

The brass bell rang at six o’clock, calling everyone back inside for supper. Jane gathered up her books and papers and shoved them into her bag. Just as she was crossing the courtyard and enjoying the sensation of strands of hair tickling her face, she felt a wet drop touch the tip of her nose.

She glanced upwards at the swirling sky and the murmuring sound of clouds rolling in rose to a loud clap of thunder that caused Jane to jump. Magic had become restless from this over-stayed summer. With a growl of impatience, nature was prepared to bring in the next season at last.

“Ruuuun!” she cried to Yvette. The witches hitched up their robes and ran as fast as they could across the courtyard and back into the school as a few more drops pelted them on the hands and hair.

And then it came in a wonderful gushing rushing sensation, oh joy! Rain crashing down on them, all white and foamy and frothy as it poured itself down upon the weary grass fields and raised puddles on the stone steps. It sloshed over courtyard stairs and slapped noisily against the windowpanes. And with it came autumn’s breath at last, cool and refreshing as it drove away the muddied sleepiness of late summer. Everyone kept getting up from the tables and sticking their hands out of the window to touch the cool blessed drops of water until the headmaster ordered them back to their seats.

The drumbeats of rain continued their steadfast merry dance as they lulled Jane into sleep. Her thoughts were long and deep as the night while she dreamed of silver storms and white winters. She awoke to a new day cleansed from rain and the faintest nip of cold in the morning, just enough to make frost upon the glass and an extra-deep gulp from hungry lungs.

Yvette groaned and moaned about summer’s end until she relented that this was a good time to try on her new boots. Asher finally pulled out his favorite green scarf and wrapped it twice around his neck. The cloaks were fastened a bit tighter around the throats, hoods pulling down to protect ears.

By the end of next week the pumpkins had grown to twice their size. And the week after that, the trees of Ilvermorny had burst out into full autumn colors, radiating cheery orange, flaming red, blazing yellow and rustling merrily in the wind for all to see. Students sprinted out off classrooms, dancing among the vibrant leaves as they talked about building corn mazes and began gathering old clothes and straw for scarecrows. 

Jane stood on the balcony of the school and spread her hands wide, welcoming the season with open arms. She drank in the chilled sharp wind hungrily and felt it flap and beat against the folds of her cloak. It rustled up the leaves into spirals and she felt a sweeping sensation of joy steal through her limbs, sending her into a twirling spiral of dance. Her boots clicked merrily against the gray stones as she skipped and twirled around in place.

Jane thought of more frosted mornings, cool daytimes, and frosty nights. She thought of dancing candles at Halloween and her birthday which came just before Thanksgiving. She thought of the crunching of red apples as they raked leaves and sang songs.

There would be more scarves, knitted hats in every color, fingerless gloves that gripped wands and the handles of cups of hot chocolate. There would be bonfires at the base of Mount Greylock, logs crashing into each other and sending sparks flying up to the sky. There would be secrets, mysteries, magic and mayhem galore.

Autumn had come to Ilvermorny.

**Author's Note:**

> Jane has a third friend who did not make it into this one-shot. The Pukwudgie is currently up to mischief in Sleepy Hollow. At least that’s what the school rumors say. ^_^


End file.
